


One Step Closer to the Edge

by jojothecr



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, Written in 2009, past Jared/Sandy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something wrong with Jensen, something is rooting inside his head and Jared is determined to find out what it is...</p><p><em>... Jensen bits down onto his lip, desperately trying to keep his emotions from spinning out of control. Because Jared is his best friend; always there when asked, always within arms reach when missed and Jensen knows he just wants to help and he doesn’t want to be rude... only now Jared’s standing right in between the Hell crashing upon Jensen’s shoulder and the only cure he knows will stop it.  “Just for once don’t care about things you don’t have to. Let me go. Jared, please.”...</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step Closer to the Edge

Huddled in his old, already worn and faded sweatshirt, Jensen sits cross-legged on the black and white woven carpet, resting his head against the warmed wall behind his back. He watches the raindrops sliding down the pellucid glass of the balcony door, as they blindly follow and copy the paths of the previous ones, gliding down to the tiled floor to disappear within the puddles that have already pooled there.

Jensen tightens his grip on the coffee mug in his hands, seeking more of the warmth radiating out of it and absorbing it into the ice cold pads of his fingers, and hangs his shoulders, sinking deeper into his hoodie. Looking up at the ashy skies above, still enclosed with dark, heavy clouds since the early morning he briefly wonders whether it is the weather that mirrors his mood or if it’s the unremitting rain that makes him feel that low and depressed.

He shakes his head and sighs; tired of the too familiar feelings that force their way into his mind and under his skin, making him feel as if he were drowning in the storm crashing inside his own head. Feelings he’s still unable to name and repel, albeit they have been there for so long he should be used to them by now and know how to fight them. He closes his eyes for a moment as the known ache and emptiness course through his body like lightning down a conductor, and causes something in his stomach to flutter and cold sweat to overflow upon his skin.

He prays his thoughts would just stop wandering in the darkest places of his mind, bringing back stupid, _stupid_ ideas of how to soothe the ache, this state. Itching sensations crawl over his forearm and he clenches his jaw, willing his body to calm down, willing his brain to just start thinking about something else. Something. _Anything._ But as many times before, his common sense is literally crushed with the pure need to silence the hurricane inside of him, and he knows he’s – once again – failing...

He opens his eyes with a start when a voice rings out behind him and nearly makes him spill the coffee into his lap.

“Dude, where ya been?” Jared asks with a chuckle, as Jensen shifts his eyes up at him.

“What?” he asks confusedly, slowly realizing Jared must have been there for a while now, and no doubt tried to call him back to Earth a few times.

“Right now,” Jared says, walking up to where Jensen sits, wearing nothing but a white towel tucked around his slim waist. “You were like... in some other dimension or something.”

Jensen waves his hand in an indeterminate direction and shakes his head. “I was just thinkin'.”

“'Bout what?”

“Nothin’. Just... nothin’.”

“Is everythin’ okay?” Jared wonders, examining his friend worriedly.

“Sure.” Jensen smirks, as if dismissing the question like it’s ridiculous.

Jared tilts his head to the side, studying Jensen’s face in the barely-there light coming from the lamp standing in the corner, suspiciously and so intently it makes Jensen look away and shrink even more into himself.

“If you say so.” Jared says then, clearly unconvinced, but not pressing any further. Eventually he stops looking at Jensen like an eagle at its prey and walks out of the room, allowing Jensen to let out the breath he didn’t even know he’s been holding.

Jared; the complete opposite of him. Sunshine. Strong, beautiful, funny Jared. Carefree and wild, not careless, just able to sort things out; important and unimportant. Able to take care of the things he can and ignore the ones he can’t change or influence. Not like Jensen, when every iniquity that has ever happened to him, every wrong decision he’s made and every single bad step he’s taken seem to be clinging to him, mixing inside and soaking above for everyone to see. If they were elements, Jared would be fire, no doubt about it. And Jensen probably ice. And those two have never been that close.

Listening to the rain thump against the door, Jensen takes a sip of his coffee, which is colder than the water falling outside by now, but he’s too busy assembling and re assembling the pieces of the puzzle of his life to really notice.

 

“So what is it?” Jared’s voice, coming once again out of nowhere, causes Jensen to skip with a fright.

“What is what?”

“This _nothin’_ you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” Jared throws his arms up, describing the tension between them and the unspoken hanging in the air. “This _everything’s okay_ that makes you look like you were chewin’ on nightshade.”

He squats down in front of Jensen, shading the light even a little bit more and casting a huge shadow over Jensen’s figure; making him look smaller.

“Even the dogs are depressed by you.” He points at the two furry monsters settled in the door, watching both of them carefully with their deep, comprehensive eyes. “What’s goin’ on?” he asks, patiently but with a sharp edge of pressure.

Jensen looks from Jared’s bare feet and over his jean-clad knees up into his questioning and scrutinizing eyes and feels like he’s naked in front of him suddenly; stripped of his skin and down to the deepest bottom of his soul. He shimmies uncomfortably, thinking he’s never felt more insecure inside his own body, not knowing how it’s going to react, how to stop the waves of heat and cold that crawl over his spine intermittently and almost periodically.

“We broke up,” he says finally; knowing it’s barely the main reason, since it’s actually been two weeks now, but hoping it’s the one Jared would buy and that could make him stop questioning.

“Oh,” Jared lets out, thunderstruck, and his face fizzles out. “I’m really sorry, Jen. Do you... do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Jensen replies, standing up and feeling finally less humiliated when Jared actually has to look up to him. “There’s nothin’ to talk about. ‘S just over.”

His secret victory doesn’t last long though, because within a moment Jared is up on his feet looking down at Jensen. “Why?”

Jensen shakes with his cup, starring at the dark liquid inside he’s made whirl and lick at the walls, as if it were the most interesting thing he’s seen in weeks. “Just didn’t feel like it used to.” He says blankly, before his eyes sweep up and he shrugs. “That’s what she said anyway.” He knows that what he says sounds cold, and it really isn’t like he doesn’t love her... he does, because she’s a sweet girl... just the spell has run dry somehow.

“Well, what’d you say?”

Jensen pauses, realizing Jared is the first person who asked his opinion. At the other hand knowing he shouldn’t be that surprised, because Jared’s always that interested and caring.

“That she’s right.”

Jared nods sympathetically. “Is there someone else?”

“What?”

“Did she find someone else?” Jared clarifies.

“Dunno... don’t think so.”

“Did you?”

“Is that an examination?” Jensen asks a little irritated.

“No,” Jared frowns. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to help.”

“Well, thanks,” Jensen smiles bitterly. “But you can’t... And I’d like to be alone.”

He squeezes by Jared, heading straight and quickly for the door, before Jared comes up with more questions.

“There’s more,” Jared states just as Jensen crosses the threshold, making him freeze in mid-step and something inside him rattles. He slowly turns to look back at Jared, who stands just where he was, looking a little helpless and betrayed. “What?”

“There’s more,” Jared repeats, finally moving and walking up to Jensen. “Somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.”

“Oh, come on,” Jensen snorts.

“Jensen, I’m not blind,” Jared says, atypically seriously. “I might be slow sometimes, but I’m not stupid. And I can see that somethin’s off. _Has been._ The only thing I don’t understand is why you can’t tell me.”

“You’re wrong,” Jensen utters before he faces round, assuming his previous escape plan.

Jared’s long slender fingers close around Jensen’s wrist tightly and without warning, making him stop and spin around. “Stop lyin’ to me.”

Jensen looks down at their joined hands, feels the rapid rhythm of his heart pelting underneath Jared’s fingertips out of sheer panic and anger, and then looks up at Jared. “Let me go,” he hisses.

“No.”

Jensen bits down onto his lip, desperately trying to keep his emotions from spinning out of control. Because Jared is his best friend; always there when asked, always within arms reach when missed and Jensen knows he just wants to help and he doesn’t want to be rude... Only now Jared’s standing right in between the Hell crashing upon Jensen’s shoulder and the only cure he knows will stop it. “Just for once don’t care about things you don’t have to. Let me go. Jared, please.”

“I can’t,” Jared protests, sounding so concerned and worried it hurts. “Not for once and not ever. You’re my friend; I wanna know what’s wrong. I wanna help.”

“Nothin’s wrong,” Jensen repeats for what seems like a hundred times, trying to wriggle out of Jared’s grip. Jared is freaking strong though, and he holds tight.

“Yeah, right,” he sneers ironically.

“Nothing. Is. Wrong.” Jensen says slowly, but assertively; every word filled with anger and impatience. He tugs his hand again, achieving only more burning pain that sears his skin in Jared’s vice-tight grip, which is the final step in front of the abyss he’s heading to.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, would you just finally let me go?!” he barks, knowing he’ll regret every word within a few moments, but unable to stop the uncontrollable downpour of rage rolling off his tongue. “Not everythin’ involves you for God’s sake! The entire world is not rotatin’ around you, Jared, no matter what you’d like to think! And this is none of your damn business; let me fuckin’ breathe for a while!”

Jared’s hand slips off Jensen’s wrist as quickly as the veil of hurt upon his face, and Jensen can feel the earth underneath his feet quiver and shatter.

Jared jerks his head in understanding and is gone before Jensen even registers he’s moved.

Jensen just stands there, dumbfounded, praying for the floor to just open up and swallow him down, yet knowing he could never be that lucky.

“Jay,” he says idly, looking after him, but seeing no more than Jared’s shadow crawling over the wall in the hallway and following him to the living room. “Fuck!” he curses before he slams his forehead against the nearest wall.

Taking a few deep breaths, he pulls away and runs his hand over his face tiredly, as if it could chase away the wraiths and his demerit. He sets the almost empty cup on the kitchen counter and reaches into the higher storey of the cupboard for a glass to pour some water down his catching throat. He can feel the invisible shiver running through his whole body, like a vibration all of a sudden, making his hands tremble and his breath come out in short pants, and he screws his eyes shut for a second against the influx of the emotions he knows is coming.

As he looks up, his eyes unwittingly, but immediately focus on the glass enclosed in his fingers resting on the counter. In silent astonishment he watches the knuckles of his fingers turning white and the crescendo tremor rocketing through his hand with every passing second, while the unyielding need to alleviate his wrath spills leisurely through his veins like a poison.  
It’s an unequal battle of strength and self control that is barely lingering within the walls of his body, and Jensen’s not really surprised to see the glass burst in his hand in the end.  
Absolutely captivated, he watches the dark, angry streams of blood pouring out of the gaping wounds and down across his fingers, painting zigzags upon his pale skin. His hand trembles intensely with anguish, but he doesn’t sense any pain, just relief. Because while his body fights with the forcible disturbance and tries to cover up the damage, he’s left feeling absolutely nothing – no confusion, no depression, no guilt – just pure, welcomed and addicting numbness.

But it doesn’t last long and Jensen jerks, startled once again, as Jared grasps his elbow and drags him to the sink. He can see that Jared is saying something, but he’s unable to hear, let alone understand a single word through the panicked hammer of his own heart echoing in his ears, and the deafening barking of the dogs jumping around. They definitely work better than a fire alarm.

“Jay, I’m sorry,” Jensen says as he watches the current of icy water showering his bleeding hand and Jared’s careful fingers pulling the remaining splinters out of his palm. “I don’t know why I said that... I didn’t mean to. Please, I’m... I’m sorry.” He’s afraid that spoken aloud his words don’t sound as coherent as they did in his head, because his tongue feels suddenly heavy in his mouth and overall unlike his own. But as he looks up he can see Jared nodding, so maybe he’s making some sense after all.

Jared is still saying something, but the only words Jensen recognize are _deep_ and _stitches_ , and put together he doesn’t like the final result.

He shakes his head with a vehement protest and... The next thing he knows, are Jared’s big, careworn eyes fixed upon his own, the chilly floor underneath him and the cold towel dripping water drops down his neck. A hot slimy tongue licking his cheek and another furry head pushing its way into his lap.

“There you are,” Jared says with a barely-there smile, squeezing Jensen’s hand tighter.

Jensen looks down to find Jared’s fingers closed around his own clenched fist. There’s a puddle of blood spilt on the tiles, smears of rouge staining his pale blue jeans and Jared’s bare forearm, and rims of originally white, now bloodstained dishcloth that peek from underneath their joined hands.

Jared’s eyes follow Jensen’s and when they meet again, he nods slightly. “It’s pretty bad. And it’s still bleedin’. Too much.” His voice sounds so scared it clasps Jensen’s heart. “But the hospital’s just two blocks away,” Jared continues as he rises up to a knee-bend. “Keep it there; I’ll be back in a second.”

Jensen opens his mouth to start protesting, but Jared is gone within a blink of an eye and all Jensen manages to say is, “Don’t--”.

It’s more than a second before Jared’s feet thud on the floor again, but much earlier than Jensen expected, and long before he knows what’s going on, he has his long black coat dropped over his shoulders and Jared’s knitted hat pulled down over his ears and is, quite gently, pushed out of the door.

 

It is indeed only two blocks, but the trip there seems to be endless.

Jared’s gaze keeps sweeping off the rain soaked road up to Jensen, who stares out the window stubbornly, watching the lights and faces they pass by, and sinking lower and lower in his seat, until he can’t go any further. His healthy hand is starting to ache with a spasm as it presses against his bleeding palm, and all he wants to do is crawl somewhere and die like a scabby dog. Fortunately for his mother, the stars aren’t inclined to Jensen today and the tires of Jared’s car squeak their protest against the sudden braking, just when his eyes register the neon _Emergency_ sign flaring through the rain covered window.

 

More than ninety minutes later, drifting in and out of consciousness and with Jared’s firm and supporting warmth behind him, Jensen stumbles into his bedroom. Seven wobbly steps afterward, he plunks onto his bed and Jared’s strong arms disappear from his lower back and elbow. With a surprise, Jensen realizes he actually misses his touch. The intense, worried look doesn’t fade away from Jared’s eyes though, and he sits on the edge of the bed with a deep sigh.

And then silence.

Sitting on the bed with his bare feet curled up underneath him and back resting against the steel headboard, Jensen can hear the ticking of the silver watch on Jared’s wrist, or the strokes of the pendulum in the old clock standing near the library in the living room, an entire corridor away. Even Harley and Sadie are unusually quiet; fed and settled in the hallway.

“It’s snowin’,” Jensen points out stunned; partly because he’s starting to get deaf from the unceasing silence, partly because he’s only now noticed the small, at first glance simple snowflakes falling upon the window pane.

“Yeah,” Jared confirms blankly, without following the direction of Jensen’s gaze and instead studying the pattern of the carpet under his feet. “It started a while ago.”

Jensen nods absently, before his eyes fall to his lap and he turns his hand up and around, studying the structure of the white bandage that embraces it from his wrist to the tips of his fingers. He feels the stitches only because he knows they’re there. Doesn’t even know how many of them, because he didn’t pay any attention to the sewing process; too busy with scolding himself to feel anything else, too busy watching Jared’s pain-crooked face; watching Jared watch the nurse sewing up his palm. Jared’s eyes were fixated upon the nurse’s long fingers, careful and accurate, putting the pieces of Jensen’s flesh back together.

“Squeeze if it hurts., he said, holding Jensen’s free hand in both of his and hissing in pain for Jensen.

Jensen didn’t; knowing he had no right to hurt Jared through his own anguish, didn’t deserve the lines of worry and care on Jared’s forehead.

He’s sure that Jared knows just how many stitches there are.

“Too many,” Jared says softly and Jensen’s head jerks up with surprise. Their gazes meet and linger and for an endless second Jensen believes he’ll hear somebody yelling _Cut!_ , because the pain in Jared’s eyes looks more like Sam’s and he feels script-less and clueless in an instant.

He nods, which seems to be the only thing he’s able to do now and looks away, his eyes automatically drifting back to the bandage.

“Thank you,” he says then, so quietly he doesn’t believe Jared can even hear him.

Obviously he could. “Don’t mention it,” he replies with a soft smile attached to his voice.

“No. No, you didn’t have to – after what I said, you shouldn’t--”

“Don’t say that,” Jared interrupts him quickly, shaking his head to emphasize his point. He shifts a little to look straight at Jensen. “And don’t be crazy. Nothin’ you could say would change what I feel for you, Jens. And absolutely nothin’ would stop me from helpin’ you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jensen says to his open palm.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” Jared replies.

“Still--” Jensen objects; feeling like a shit, because they don’t fight. They just _don’t_.

“Really, Jensen,” Jared reaches out to pat Jensen’s knee. “You were angry, it just slipped out.”

Jensen looks up and sees that no matter what Jared says there’s still pain and sadness dwelling in his eyes.

“You’re pissed at me though,” he states, grabbing a pillow from the other side of the bed and setting it on his lap, as if it could protect him from the emptiness and cold that he feels he’s turned their friendship into.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Jared assures him. “I’m…” He goes silent then and takes a deep breath, and Jensen knows it’s gonna be bad, because Jared lost for words is never a good sign.

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth and watching Jared while he settles his thoughts in his head and looks for the right words, Jensen waits.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Jared asks finally; voice flat and cold like an ice, his eyes glued to one spot on the snow covered window.

All of the air lingering in Jensen’s lungs escapes in one startled hiccup. “Wh-what?” he wheezes.

“I know the glasses are thin, but they don’t break just by touching them,” Jared turns his head to look straight at Jensen with a piercing, scrutinizing gaze, so accusing it freezes Jensen in his spot. “Did you break it ‘cause you wanted to?”

Jensen swallows hard, feeling the heat covering his cheeks, the sweat breaking out upon his skin. He doesn’t manage to say a word or shake his head in objection, but judging by the expression on Jared’s face, he doesn’t even need to.

“Jesus!” Jared gasps with pure horror. He looks up at the ceiling and then folds his hands in front of his face as if ready to pray, letting out a frustrated whoosh of breath and closing his eyes.

“It’s not what you think,” Jensen peeps weakly.

“No?”Jared wonders, looking sideways at Jensen. “What is it then? ‘Cause it looks _exactly_ like what I think.”

Staring back at Jared, Jensen shakes his head mutely. He blinks in surprise when Jared grabs his left hand and rolls up the sleeve, exposing several sealed, but still raw red lines crossing Jensen’s forearm.

“And these?”

Jensen jerks his hand back and frowns. “They’re from shootin’, you know that. You were there.”

“I know.” Jared nods and Jensen breaths out with relief, until Jared adds, “But there were four of them, not seven.”

Jensen draws his sleeve down again and stands up; obviously too quickly because the world around him whirls like a roundabout and his legs wobble. But he gathers his equilibrium eventually, and walks over to the window. He leans his good hand on the window sill, staring through the cloak of snow falling behind.

“Why?” Jared asks quietly behind him, eyes threatening to burn holes through Jensen’s back.

Jensen sighs and shakes his head; such a simple question and the answer out of reach.

“Is it Danneel?” Jared goes on. “Because of the break-up?”

Jensen only shakes his head again, wishing Jared would just drop the subject.

“Your family? Somethin’s wrong with them?”

“No.”

“What is it then?” Jared stands up and walks to where Jensen’s standing, making him back up a few steps. “Tell me.”

Jensen just shakes his head, starring down at the floor. “I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?! What else is gonna happen before you open up to me?” Jared’s clearly losing his calm quickly; he reaches out to touch Jensen’s shoulders, shaking him a bit. “For fucks sake, Jen, I’m your best friend, trust me a little! Let me help.”

“Maybe there’s no reason,” Jensen suggests in a whisper, pulling away and out of Jared’s reach.

“You can’t feel that bad for no reason.”

“Apparently yeah,” Jensen objects. He looks up at Jared’s worry-stained face. “Apparently you can feel like shit and not know why.”

“Why do you feel this way?” Jared asks, his voice dropping to a level of solicitude and concern. “Why would you?”

Jensen opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it again without a single word. He can see that Jared is trying to understand, wants to understand, but Jensen doesn’t know how to describe something he’s unable to explain even to himself. And really, how many people would not lock him up in some nice, padded room after admitting that pain makes everything better? That seeing his own blood makes _him_ feel better?

“Forget it,” he says; ordering, pleading. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He pulls away, but Jared grabs both of his wrists and pulls him back, closer to himself. He freaking knows he’s invading Jensen’s personal space, but he doesn’t seem to care in the least. Quite the contrary.

“No, you’re right, I wouldn’t. I don’t,” he admits. “I don’t understand how someone like you can feel like shit.”

Jensen snorts and, unable to leave or turn, at least looks away.

“Jen, you’re the most amazing person I know. You’re smart, funny, caring...” Jared enumerates and Jensen draws his bottom lip in between his teeth and closes his eyes, as if not seeing would mean not hearing either. It really doesn’t work that way though.

“… you’re sexy and beautiful and so freakin’ talented...”

“Why are you tellin’ me all this?” Jensen whispers, stopping Jared obviously only somewhere in between his speech.

“Because it’s true. And because I want you to see that,” Jared replies, smiling a little. His thumb strokes the inner side of Jensen’s wrist gently, making his heartbeat increase underneath his touch. “Because I love you… and if you weren’t such a bumpkin stuck up inside your head all the time you probably would have noticed already.”

“Don’t call me a--” Jensen’s eyes fly open and he’s determined to sere Jared with his gaze for the ‘nickname’, however his temper cools off as Jared’s words really sink in. “W-wh-what?” he stammers then.

“You heard me,” Jared grins; eyes sparkling and dimples on the display.

Jensen’s eyes widen, almost comically, and Jared chuckles, but it slowly fades away as he takes in Jensen’s suddenly pale – even paler - face.

“Jens?” he asks worriedly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jensen snaps out of his contemplation with a blink. “Yeah.”

Except for the part where he’s just _really_ opened his eyes and what had been there all the time has stepped into his visual field. Evidently clearly enough for Jared to see.

“Is that it?” he asks, pulling an inch back to look into Jensen’s face. A shock makes his eyes darker and he steps back, letting go of Jensen’s hands. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps, pointing at the bandage on Jensen’s wrist and the cuts hiding under his sleeve. “Please, Jensen, tell me this is not because of me.”

Jensen follows Jared’s eyes and waves his hand unwillingly. “It’s not.” At Jared’s doubtful look, he repeats. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have seen,” Jared shakes his head.

“ _I_ haven’t seen,” Jensen says urgently, touching Jared’s arm to make him listen. “Jay, I didn’t know. I still... don't.”

Jared doesn’t seem to be convinced though and Jensen suddenly feels too tired for any more talking, for even standing upright. He collapses onto his bed with an exhausted _puff_. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“No, I am.” Jared crosses the distance between them and drops to his knees in front of Jensen. “You were here and I didn’t see you… I was just thinkin’ ‘bout me and Sandy, tryin’ to find a safe and painless way out of our relationship… tryin’ to explain everyone everythin’…” He takes Jensen’s wounded hand in his and runs his fingers over the tips of Jensen’s, following the movements with his eyes. “And all the time you were here for me… and I didn’t see you. Jen, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jensen objects, feeling an unknown wave of heat spreading through his body from where Jared touches him.

“Tell me about it,” Jared asks.” Tell me what you feel.”

“No,” Jensen says resolutely, pulling his hand out of Jared’s grip and shifting backward onto the bed.

Before he knows, Jared’s large hands are on his cheeks and his thumbs pressing underneath Jensen’s jaw line, making him look up at him. “Yes, you’ll tell me now... if you don’t want me to think you’ve gone completely crazy.”

“I don’t care what you think!” Jensen spits back as he jerks away from Jared’s hold, his anger returning to his veins along with the self-disgust as the power of the painkillers slowly fades away.

“How wonderful an actor you are,” Jared says calmly, absolutely unbalanced by Jensen’s outburst, which only pours oil into the fire blazing in Jensen’s mind. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Jared, I don’t want to fight with you, ‘kay?” Jensen’s voice is cold, but his tone pleading. He really, really just wants to forget about everything, except maybe the part where Jared confessed his love for him, which – _holy shit_ – he really did, and go to sleep. “I _really_ don’t.”

“Then stop,” Jared suggests, grazing Jensen’s knee with the tip of his fingers. “Stop fightin’ with me, ‘cause I’m not the one you need to tussle with. It’s the thing inside of you you need to deal with... And I’ll help you, if you just let me in.”

Instead of that though, Jensen slides further away from Jared and draws the sleeves of his hoodie over his fingers. He closes his eyes, pretending he’s deaf, and folds his hands in his lap, feeling cold; so freaking cold all of a sudden. He can feel Jared’s eyes upon him; starring at him intently and waiting, but it takes a few minutes before he speaks up.

“If you really don’t care what I think,” Jared says quietly and with so much sadness coloring his voice it makes Jensen hurt. Taking a deep, a little shuttering breath, Jared carries on. “Then open your eyes and look at me. And say it again... and I’ll be out of your hair in a second.”

Jared’s words raise a sheer tsunami of panic inside of Jensen. He opens his eyes with a startle and blinks a few unwelcome tears out of them, focusing on Jared whose eyes are just that glassy. “I love you... and I don’t want to fight with you. And I hate to feel like this and do what I do, but it’s stronger... And if you never felt that, you’ll never understand...”

“Let me try,” Jared insists, touching Jensen’s ankle, because it’s the nearest part of him, and watching as he brushes his tears away with the rim of his sleeve. “Come on, Jen... just try it. You owe me that much.”

Jensen sniffs and pauses, then shrinks his body even more into itself. Maybe the entire century passes, before he starts. “It’s like... like there is a gap in front of you, haulin’ you into itself... and all you can sense is the voice inside your head, yellin’ ‘Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!’” His voice drops to less than a whisper, when he continues, “A mess of feelings you don’t understand... don’t recognize. This strange ache inside of you stretching out... It hurts, but... you don’t know how... don’t know _what_... Real pain is the only thing that makes it go away... And then you scrape through, and wonder what the fuck have you done.”

“That’s so fucked-up,” Jared comments, shaking his head fecklessly.

Jensen looks up at him; eyes dark and watery, his eyelashes glued into thick, wet shadows. “I didn’t want you to know... I hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

Jared smirks; dishonest, distant and more like a twitch of his face. “Sorry for breakin’ your hopes.” He puts his hand on Jensen’s wet cheek, smoothing away a couple of tears. “There must be somethin’ that works.”

“No pills,” Jensen protests immediately. “I don’t wanna be addicted to some fuckin’ drugs.”

“Jensen, you’re addicted to pain,” Jared argues, feeling the tremble running through Jensen’s body at the statement. “It’s fuckin’ scary and much worse than some pills that could fix it so easily.”

“ _It_ ,” Jensen agrees. “And everythin’ else... I could never portray what I want. Feel what I want. The characters... they’d be flat...”

Jared’s eyes fly up to the ceiling and he shakes his head, clearly differing. Seeing the huge difference between Jensen’s career and his health; no doubt knowing what’s more important.

“I’d be,” Jensen finishes, drawing Jared’s gaze back to him. “Besides... it’s not permanent. It just happens from time to time.”

Jared throws his hands in powerless gesture. “Then what? I can’t let you keep doing _this_.”

“Tomorrow, okay?” Jensen bargains, sounding even to his own ears like a five year old boy. If he wasn’t that tired, he’d probably care, but now he only tugs at the hem of Jared’s shirt, emphasizing his request. He also knows the moment when he’s able to talk about it quite logically and comprehensively will pass away soon and he wants to be asleep before it happens and the storm comes back. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, yeah? I’m--” A yawn makes its way in between Jensen’s slurred syllables and the rest of them Jared can only barely guess through Jensen’s fingers pressed against his mouth. “I ju-wa-slp.”

“Okay,” Jared nods slowly, hesitating. “Okay, tomorrow... But that’s it, no more excuses.” He leans closer and his lips brush against Jensen’s forehead lightly. “You’re not alone in that.” His eyes slip back to Jensen’s, “Not anymore... We’ll find you help. Together.”

Jensen nods and his hand touches Jared’s cheek, stroking it lightly with his bandaged fingers and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you,” he whispers. Then he leans against the headboard, sinking down onto the pillow and closes his eyes. He can feel the bed moving as Jared stands up and he opens his eyes again, wishing he’d stay, but unwilling to ask for more than he’s already asked.

“I won’t leave you alone,” Jared says as if he was a mind reader. “I’ll just check on the dogs and set the alarm, and be right back.”

Jensen’s hair rustles against the pillow as he nods. “’kay.”

He listens to Jared’s divagating steps and then rolls onto his side, staring blankly out the window. He wants to sleep, really, he can practically feel his body falling asleep, except for his brain, which is momentarily on overload, bringing back every word, action and movement of that damned evening.

He’s been always thinking too much, always worrying too much what other people think about him, maybe even living the life he thought they wanted him to live. And he’d gotten used to it, only lately it’s somehow stopped working and left him standing in the middle of a crossroad, with a skull in his hand and the ultimate question rolling in his head: _To be or not to be?_

 

When Jared comes back barely thirty minutes later, he finds Jensen surprisingly awake, sitting at the edge of his bed, with his head bowed, and his disheveled spiky hair looking like a sparrow nest.

“Jensen, why aren’t you sleepin’?” he asks, as he crawls onto the bed and takes his place behind Jensen.

“You must think I’m a total idiot,” he replies in a quiet, sleepy tone.

“No,” Jared disagrees, shifting closer to wrap his arms around Jensen’s waist and rest his chin on his shoulder. “That’s not what I think.” He takes Jensen’s hands in his, comparing their size, the structure and shade of their skin. “What I think is that you care too much what the others think ‘bout you and maybe misunderstand what they expect from you... Maybe that’s the reason you feel so uncomfortable in your skin. But ...they can see you now and if they don’t like what they see, then what? Screw them... There are thousands who like you for who you are. Who wanna see you - Jensen. The Jensen, who, drenched with artificial rain, busted out singin’ _You can do me in the mornin’_ on a cemetery set. The Jensen who bumps his shoulder against the door frame of the kitchen every morning, ‘cause he’s too asleep to coordinate his movements... Who climbs out the window of the Metallicar and starts strummin’ _Eye of the Tiger’_ on his thigh... ‘Cause that’s the real Jensen. The Jensen they love... Who I love.”

Jensen sits silently, letting Jared play with his fingers and Jared’s lips tickle his skin with every spoken word that washes over him and crawls under his skin, touching him deeper than he ever thought was possible. Eventually he turns his head to look up at Jared with tears scorching his eyes; he doesn’t know what to say and besides he’s sure that no audible sound would pass through his constricted throat, but Jared smiles with the adorable grin that makes fairy stars whirl in his eyes and whispers again, “I love you.”

He puts his fingers on Jensen’s chin, lifting it up to press his mouth on Jensen’s. Their lips barely touch, but Jensen doesn’t manage to hide the startled intake of breath, when what feels like a thunder stroke rushes through every cell and nerve ending of his body. Pulling just an inch back he looks into Jared’s eyes, which are no more than two puddles of dark chocolate and smiles, when he finds there the exact same way he feels. His fingers delve in Jared’s smooth, wild hair and pull him closer again, and Jensen wonders how he could have been that blind and numb and not knowing that what he wanted was there in front of his eyes all the time. Wonders how he could have not known that this was what he wanted.

“C’m here,” Jared says quietly as he moves back, urging Jensen to do the same.

Jensen looks at him a little confusedly, but obeys until they both rest in the middle of the bed, facing each other. It’s Jensen, who makes the first step, as he reaches for Jared’s sleeve and draws him closer, but Jared takes it further, nipping and tugging at Jensen’s plump lower lip, begging for entrance. His hand slips underneath Jensen’s hoodie to rest at the small of his back and presses their bodies together. Jensen’s lips part under the touch of Jared’s tongue and they both moan at the strange and addicting feeling of smoothness and heat, and lingering taste of bitter coffee and sweet candy.

Seeing Jared’s smiling face in front of his eyes and feeling his warm fingers rest on his hip, with his senses saturated with Jared’s taste and scent, and his pain lulled with Jared’s warmth and the steady rhythm of his heart underneath his fingers, Jensen decides that _To be_ is his answer. So much more than just the one essential question.

Their kiss doesn’t cause an earthquake that would be broadcasted on the News in the morning, but it does shatter something inside of Jensen; to pieces. Because every swirl of their tongues, every half-breath they share and every slightest touch of Jared’s hand on his skin feels like lighting up a candle in the enfolding darkness.


End file.
